Day 4-5

Rob has to catch his bus to Sofia and I have to prepare for my 8 hour trip to Izmir. We had an eventful Saturday night. Started out with having a picknic on the stores of the Golden Horn and ended up involving transvestites, mistaken identities, partying with a (straight) guy I met at a gay club and wandering around the streets of Istanbul at 5 am, among other sordid details.

Hopefully they'll have Internet in Selcuk.

Day 3

Rob and I went off in search of the Topkari palace (Yes, that's spelled wrong and I don't care). Rob has a pretty good grip on the public transportation system so we decided to take the bus there. We saw a stop called Topkari so off we went.

We met some Israelis on the bus and they were headed to the same place as us. We chatted for a bit, and then split up once we got to the gates. We walked around...and around...and around...and saw no castle. Turns out that the Topkari stop is *not* the castle. Hehe, whoops. We could take the metro to the real castle, but after meeting up with the Israelis again, decided on taking a taxi.

Turkish taxis are small. Plus the driver, we fit Rob, myself and three Israelis in a cab. The driver took the long way (of course) but it was worth it, careening through the streets of Istanbul, smooshed so tight I was sitting on my side.

We got the castle and the line up was so long. Seriously, this was the most disorganised system I've ever seen in my travels. Only two windows were open for ticket selling. You could either buy a general entry ticket for 12 lira, or the entry ticket and a ticket to the treasury for an additional 10 lira. They were selling the harem tickets inside for an additional 10 lira.

Of course, everyone wants to see the harem. So, why do you have to buy the tickets inside the gate? The harem closes at 15:30. We got to the castle at 12:30 (thanks to our adventures that morning) and easily waited in line for 90 minutes. It wasn't so bad, actually. I played "Guess the nationality/language" of everyone else waiting in line. I think Spain invented a molecular transteleporter because the place was swarming with Spaniards.

We chatted with a an older Dutch couple standing behind us. Afterwards, we met a German lady and a Spanish guy around our own ages and started talking to them. They're both working in Bucharest. The girl at an educational organisation and the guy at the Spanish embassy. While Rob and Karen talked about education in the Balkans, I chatted with the Spanish guy about the Madrid train bombings, paella, Spanish art, ETA and all sorts of other stuff you shouldn't mention in polite conversation.

Once we got through the gates, we hightailed it to the harem line. Another hour! Why can't they just sell everything together? We were standing by a British couple and we joked and laughed the entire time. Good thing it's not too hot as we would have been roasting. We got an entry time for a tour (15:30) so we went to explore for a few minutes.

In all honestly, both Rob and I were unimpressed with the harem. It was completely empty! We would have liked to have seen it as it was when the sultan lived there. Contrary to popular belief, the harem was his private apartments and those of his family, not just where the "concubines" stayed. The tile work was beautiful, I got to see the sultan's private toilet, but it was certainly not worth 10 lira.

I think they rotate the openings of the different chambers in the rest of the palace. Unfortunately, the circumcision room was closed. I was quite disappointed. The rooms were all empty everywhere else. They had a few small museums with arms, costumes and pottery which we wandered through. We particularly enjoyed the illuminated manuscripts. The artists were very particular in specifiying if the dogs and horses were male, female or geldings.

We really liked the relics room, with Muhammed's foot print (we debated the veracity of this, because even current NBA basketball players have smaller feet), a letter he wrote regarding Coptic Christians (convert or die), bits of his hair and beard and articles of clothing. There were huge "do not take photographs" pictures everywhere and still people were snapping pictures. Me taking a picture in a theatre is one thing (when I went to the Opera, and that was only for you, dear readers), but the flashes can really hurt the preservation of these items. If I worked at the museum, I would go on such a power trip, making people delete the pictures and opening up the cameras to expose the film.

After the castle, we went off in search of food. And more shopping. I decided I wanted to buy a necklace. I never buy myself anything when I travel. I had already seen a gorgeous gold and sapphire necklace in another store, along with an opal pendant. Both were way overpriced but I loved them anyways. I tossed their purchase around on my head but decided to keep looking. I found the same necklace with emeralds in another store for half price. Granted, there was no bargaining here, but the clasp is much better and I've always wanted some emerald jewelery.

I got some traditional Turkish hats for my grandparents and I'm trying to decide if I want a Turkish tea set too. I want everything here! I'm mentally thinking about clothes I don't really need and judging the space required to bring all this stuff home.

The ones here are beautiful but very touristy. Rob and I went to a glassware shop because they had vases I was drooling over. They had *real* Turkish glasses, plain, with no design. I want oodles of plates and bowls and lamps and vases. I love the designs they have here.

Problem is that so much of our stuff at home is *fake* Turkish design that when you see the real thing (or at least better copies of the real thing), it still looks fake. I like the lamps but they remind me of ones you get a dollar stores at home. I want Pashminas and loukoum and scarves and...

Last night, we decided we wanted to go out and have a good time. We're young and in Istanbul! We were walking down a small street when a man asked if we wanted to dance and have fun.

Sure, we replied.

So he brings us to a bar with vagely Middle Eastern techno music playing. The girls were tall, statuesque...and not really girls. Sure enough, we were in a Turkish gay/transvestite disco!

The girls kept coming over asking us to buy them drinks. Rob eventually bought a stunning girl a drink and they sat talking. She's a tartar from somewhere other other. She spoke almost no English so as he said, it was like playing Telephone. I on the other hand, amused myself by watching the guys dancing. Some were pretty cute but herein lies the problem:
a) I was the only real female there (although later on, a butch lesbian showed up)
b) They would willingly go to a gay bar (do the math)
c) They quite possibly had transexual fetishes

A blond Paris Hiltin wannabe sat down next to me and called me "sweetie" and "sugar".

"Drink?"
"No thanks"
"Buy drink me?"
"No, I'm just watching"
"Drink me?"
"No thanks"
"Drink want me"
"I don't have any money"

This was the magic word and she quickly got up to leave, but first she gave me a kiss on the cheek and stroked my hair.

The guy who invited us in asked if I wanted tea. After he left, Rob's friend told me that he's "Bad bad man". I wonder if he's a pimp or something.

After she finished her drink, we quickly left.

We wandered up and down the streets until we found a crowded bar filled with young Turks. We got some drinks and sat down and talked. People started clearing out at around 2 am, so we wandered around. We saw some girls who did NOT look Turkish and sure enough, they were Brits. There was an older man sitting beside them and he asked if I'd like to sit down. He's 28 and an accountant from Iran but works in Syria. I was sure he was bullshitting me (especially since he looked closer to 38 than 28) so I tried out my story. I told him that I was with Rob, who was a director from Bulgaria, etc etc. I think he bought it!

Think, because he barely spoke any English. Kept asking for my phone number, my address, my hotel and my email. He wanted to know if I would be back the next day. Sometimes "maybe" really does mean "no!"

Day 1-2

So we've gotten hit by every scam in the book.

Tourist prices, corrupt taxi drivers and the "shoe shine guy".

Yesterday, we went to see the Aya Sophia. Rob and are both all about the Byzantine art and were completely psyched to see the church. We both paid $15 to get in. Expensive but worth it.

Actually, no. The place was covered in scaffolding! To add insult to injury, there was a sign announcing that the work would be completed on January 31, 05. Riiiight.

We walked around but the scaffolding really ruined the experience as we couldn't see the dome. I got to see some nice Byzantine mosaics but I actually preferred the ones in Porec, Croatia to these.

Coming out, some shoe shine guys called to us. We ignored them. They called again. We ignored them. They asked for a cigarette. Rob gave him one. Then his friend asked for one. So Rob handed him one too.

"Shoe shine?"
"No thanks"
"Shoe shine?"
"No thanks"
"Free. Gift!"
"No thanks"
Present for you! Shoe shine!"
No thanks"
"Free! Present! Gift!"
"Ok"



Rob was about to walk off when the guy asked him for money.
"I thought you said this was free!"
"Babies! Five babies!"
"You said this was a gift"
"Hungry babies! Hungry babies need food!"
"I'm not paying for this. Here, have my cigarettes"
"Babies need food. Babies hungry"

Maybe he was talking about his grand or great-grand babies, as he was probably 70 years old. Rob offered him the pack of his cigarettes but the man batted them away.

"Hungry babies need food!"

I gave him 2.5 lira, which was all the small money I had on me. He seemed insulted but there was no way I was giving him more. He looked at it, looked at Rob, and then grabbed his cigarette pack. We laughed about the incident for the rest of the day.

Today, we went to the covered bazaar where Rob spent $600 on leather goods. What started out as a "Well, I'll just try the pants on" turned into a whole fitting session where, at one point, at least three different guys had their hands on Rob's ass/crotch.

I wandered happily around the jewelery section and tried on the most expensive piece of jewelery I will ever get to touch in my life: almost 2 billion (old) Turkish Lira. New Lira: over $2000.

I came *this close* to buying a beautiful gold and sapphire necklace and an opal pendant. I'll sleep on it and see how I feel in the morning.

Now, we're off on the search for adventure. Rob and I have been practice-lying all day (I'm Romanian, he's Bulgarian, we're vegetarians, etc etc). Now, we're going to put our skills to the test. We're going to tell everyone that he's an American second unit director working on a Kung Fu movie with Chow Yung Fat in Bulgaria about the Russian Mafia. We're in Turkey for a location scout and also to recruit girls for a belly dancing scene in which will take place a shoot-out. The movie will also star a Turkish actor, whose name Rob has forgotten but will immediately agree to as soon as one is suggested. We have high hopes for the charade.

Trip from hell

I am alive.

Barely.

I got up at 6:00 am to catch my train to Bucharest. I decided against reserving a seat, and luckily, I got an entire car to myself.

I quickly fell asleep (as I didn't sleep the night before) but was awoken by the sounds of rocks and gravel hitting the window. I could also feel them hitting the floor. Clumps of dirt were flying past and the sound was excruciating. I pictures the "What Went Wrong" documentary on the German high speed train accident (where the metal came off one of the wheels and caused the train to derail) and was paranoid that a piece of metal would come up and impale me.

Suddenly, the train gave a huge lurch and then everything went quiet.

I fell asleep.

I woke up half an hour later, confused and disoriented. We hadn't moved. I looked out the window. And the number one thing you don't want to see when you wake up on a train is the conductor and the ticket controllers pointing to the locomotive in front of you with an expression of horror in their eyes.

I forced myself to fall asleep again. I felt telling myself "You won't miss your connection in Bucharest. Don't worry. Everything will be fine".

(The last time I told myself this, I had just come back from a daytrip to Maastricht in the Netherlands)

I got up to investigate and the locomotive was gone. We were stranded in the middle of nowhere. I cursed the train for dying there, in the middle of an open field with nothing around for miles. Why couldn't it have died 25 minutes earlier when we were in the mountains?

Suddenly, the train lurched again and soon we were on our way. The ticket controller came by and I asked what the problem was. Turns out the brakes weren't working. Lovely. I guess I should be grateful I wasn't an extra in another "Very Special Episode of Discovery".

I asked our estimated arrival time. "3:00 pm". "3:00 pm??? I have a train to Istanbul at 2:10!!!"

"Nothing I can do about it. You'll just have to take the train tomorrow."

"And what am I supposed to do in the meantime?"

"Get a hotel."

"I don't have the money for that. I'm using the Balkan Flexipass. The point of which is to travel from Timisoara to Istanbul for 10 euros. I work for an NGO. I don't make any money."

"Not my problem."

"It's not my problem either. It's not my fault that the train is having problems, however, I should not be punished for it either."

"Nothing we can do."

I was on the verge of tears. Not only was I pissed about missing my train, unsure about how I would contact my friend and figure out the hotel situation, but I was only talking in Romanian. It's bloody difficult to argue and get your way in a language you don't know, particularly with the Romanian ticket control.

The guy who was in the cabin behind me was also on the way to Istanbul. We started talking. Again, he didn't speak a word of English, forcing me to talk in Romanian. It was great experience! He was so patient, and if I didn't understand something, he repeated ir, or reworded it, until I understood. Now I'm starting to conjugate my verbs properly instead of using proper pronoun + 1st person singular verb.

We arrived in Bucharest at 3:00 pm and I ran to the bus information kiosl to ask about busses. There's one bus a day and it left at 2:00 pm. However, she said that there was another bus leaving at 4:00 pm from a different address. With my new friend in tow, we ran to the cab station and he gave the driver instructions on where to take me.

I ran into the bus stop and yes, they had seats. I was releaved but also pissed. The point of me buying a Balkan FlexiPass was to save me money (namely, getting me to Istanbul for ten euros). I was quite annoyed at having to pay an additional $50 CAD for a ticket. It would get me there sooner but on the downside, no couchettes.

We took off shortly after 4:00 pm. The man beside me was quite large and suffered from "overflow". He also decided I would make a great conversation partner and insisted on talking to me. I smiled and nodded politely, but couldn't understand a word due to his mumbling and slurring.

At the Bulgarian border, we stopped to get our passports stamped. We were in the middle of a desolate field. I went off to find a bathroom, finally finding one presided over by an old babushka. She charged us 5000 lei for the privilege of using her Turkish toilets. She also gave us a length of toilet paper.

I had no food with me so I bought some garlic Bake Rolls (bagel chips). I hoped the garlic would ward off my seatmate. The rest of the bus stocked up on traditional Romanian travel food: Bake Rolls and 7 Days croissants (those with the champagne-flavoured filling). I devoured them in ten minutes out of sheer frustration.

Turkish busse are actually pretty comfortable. More comfortable than the SMT busses I took at home. We also got unlimited juice, tea and water. However, there was no bathroom on the bus and once outside of Romania, few places accepted the lei.

We stopped in Bulgaria at a stereotypical Communist diner. I don't know if Communist diners exist but if you picture in your head a Communist diner, this would be it. I pointed to a mess of chopped up meat and asked what it was. "Ficat de pui". Normally I would know that this is chicken livers, but in my state, I thought it was chopped chicken.

I ended up with a meal of chicken livers, mushrooms and greasy green beans in grease/tomato sauce.

Back on the bus, I tried to sleep. I drifted a few times, but we made so many pit stops that I kept getting jarred awake.

I was aware that at the Turkish border, we would have to get off. We were herded to a building to buy visas. My visa from Ankara is good until April 28th, so I smugly announced that I didn't need one. One of the bus stewardesses told me that I did indeed need one. I followed the line anyways.

The woman behind the desk (bearing in mind that it's about 2 am and we're freezing cold) tells me I owe her $45. I tell her I don't need a visa as I have a three month multiple-entry visa which expires on April 28th. She doesn't speak a word of English or Romanian. She instead screams at me that I owe her $45. I point out the date that it was purchased (January 28th) and then the Turkish translation of "three month multiple entry". She screams at me...something or other. I make out the word "Politia".

Instead, I walk over to the border control and hand the lady my passport. She looks at it, looks at the date on the visa, and gives me my stamp. Everyone is looking at me strangely, but I don't care. They're probably just jealous that I don't have to purchase a visa.

A new bus pulled up and I saw that it said Sofia-Istanbul. I ran over and sure enough, Rob came out. We had a joyful reunion. It was great to see him after six months! However, my bus honked the horn and I had to get back on.

We got in the bus and drove over the border. Then we were made to get out again because the police wanted to check our bags. By this time, I had taken my contacts out and didn't bother putting my glasses on. I fumbled for my luggage and stood, freezing in the cold. The damn guards didn't even look in my bag! They were more concerned with checking the duty-free stuff.

We all got on the bus again and they started showing "Girl Next Door". The volume couldn't decide whether to stay on or turn off, so after struggling to listen, I gave up. I rerad the subtitled but it was consuming more effort than it was worth so I fell asleep.

And woke up. And fell asleep. And woke up.

All fricken night.

We pulled into Istanbul at 6:45 in the morning. One of the workers took my hand and led me to the building. I asked why I was going there because I needed to get a taxi.

"Sit down! Relax!"

They gave us hot buns and tea. I asked the man again if I could leave and he told me to wait. After 30 minutes, no one told me anything else. I asked one of the women "Why am I here?" "I don't know. Leave it you want to". I got directions to the bank, got a cab, was taken on a wild goose chase around the Taksim area, and then finally found my hotel and Rob.

Thanks

How do you begin to thank everyone who made an impact on you this year? I can't count the people who have helped me, encouraged me, or helped me see Timisoara in a new and exciting light. It's hard for me to be sappy, and I'm sure I'll be adding to this list in a few days, but to everyone who's read and enjoyed this blog, thank you from the bottom of my heart.


The Romanians:

Adriana: Possibly the coolest Romanian I have ever met. You laughed at my stupid Canadianisms and I laughed at your inability to see how short Romanian skirts really are. Most importantly, you showed me how to see your country in different eyes, and were always there to answer any question I had (and then debate my way of thinking afterwards). Enjoy your time abroad, do lots of stuff I wouldn't do, and I look forward to seeing you replace Kofi Annan someday.

Cristian: One of my best friends in Romania. You listened to me complain when I was upset, let me watch your fish when I was happy and endlessly teased me when I threw temper tantrums over my inability to easily grasp CSS. I adore you!

Ciprian: Proof that friends of friends can make great friends. You are as beautiful inside as they are out. Whether it was my cooking, movies, or laughing about the Moldovan Mafia, I will never forget you, and I wish you great luck when you're a doctor.

Fabi and Dee: I can never forget your kindness in including me in your social circle. I know English isn't as easy for you as for Cristi but I appreciate your efforts to talk to me whenever we were out. And hey, at least now you like soy sauce!

Krisztina: We met by fluke, but it was one of the best flukes of my life. You are such a beautiful person and I know I will be back to see you again.

Cosmin: You were always there when I needed to go out, to dress up or just reminisce about "old times".

Alina: Watch out world, Alina is one of those "up and comers" political magazines like to talk about. Perfectly bilingual, smart as hell and only 18, you'll probably be seeing more of her in the future.

Sandu: With your English skills and my Romanian skills, we were like two blind people trying to find each other in a crowded room. I wish there could be more teachers like you.

Cristana: Another super cool teacher. The more I got to know you, the more I discovered how much we have in common. Hopefully we'll still be able to work together even when I get home.

Horia and Marina: I haven't seen either of you since September, but your watermelons were so much appreciated. Thank you Horia for giving me one of my most precious memories of Romania.

Florian and Maria: I've only seen you once since last September, but I will never forget your kindness to the strange Canadian girl. Also, you taught me so many words that will come in handy should I ever decide to read Danielle Steele novels in Romanian.

The couple who run the grocery store next door: I don't know your names, but I know you secretly smile at my accent, the way I mix up my verbs and how I always buy the exact same thing when I go to your store. I hope you'll miss me like I miss you.

Bogdan at Etti: I haven't seen you in ages, but you will remain my first Romanian crush.

Adrian: You showed me how much fun Romanians can be. I'm just sorry I couldn't get to know you better before you left.

Vlad and Nadia: Sorry we didn't see each other as much as we planned, but you guys were my first friends in Timisoara before I even arrived. Good luck to you both in the future.


Known from home:

Mom: Possibly the best mom in the world. I know you want me home, but can't I just stay a bit longer?

Dario: What can I say about il mio bello italiano? I miss you and you know you will always have a huge place in my heart.

Rob L: I don't think I'll appreciate your friendship to the full extent until after I return to Canada. I can't tell you how much I appreciate having you there to hear my complaints, to empathise, or to just pass along a funny news story. Istanul in 5 days!

Jane: The same goes for you! I was scared of you when I met you in Wolfville but I couldn't have survived this year without your weekly doses of sarcasm.

Marc: I don't think I've ever met someone as open, outgoing and positive as you. I'm sure you'll see Adriana at the Hague someday soon.

Sarah: We've been friends since first year at university and five years later we're still friends. Your emails always made me laugh and I could not do without all your sound advice.

Jana: The only person who can "tell it like it is" and not offend me, I could not have done without your brutal honesty this year, whether it was concerning psycho Romanians, Greeks, fad diets or the subtle techniques of orthodontia.

Mariko: Another friend since first year, you more than anyone else knows what it's like to live in a foreign country. I'm sure I'll be seeing you this summer.

Teri: Your emails always made me smile, as well as the rest of the staff here. Thanks!

Lea: Someone who's already "been there", thanks for all the words of encouragement. I'm just sorry I didn't know you very well at university!

Bill: You were always one of the few who responded after my newsletters. Thanks for all your encouragement.


Travels and conferences

Nuno: Meeting you was one of my best memories of this long strange journey. You are one of the few people I've met who are as beautiful outside as they are in. You have been such an inspiration to me.

Jenny: You remind me so much of myself and sometimes I think we've lived parallel lives. I'm sure we'll be seeing more of each other in the future.

Thanos: Meeting you was one of the highlights of going to Turkey. I am now fully convinced of the superiority of the Greek culture and baklava.

Momir: My Capricorn brother. Your enthusiasm and positivity are contagious! You made me laugh with your paintbrush-plastic bottle identity sculpture, cry with your reflection piece and smile with your emails and SMSes. Thank you.

Cem: Because of you, I can say I truly "hung out" in Turkey. You will find your green nature some day.

Boyka: You are probably the nicest person I have ever met in my life. If I have 1/10th of your patience, I will consider myself lucky.

Sofia: One of the kindest, most generous and multi-talented people I've ever had the pleasure of meeting.

Carina: The same goes for you! Thank you for immediately including me in Portugal. I hope that won't be the last time I will be seeing you.


Known from afar:

Brandon: Your words have moved me to tears, whether bittersweet or laughter. You are a wonderful writer and I look forward to your stories for years to come.

Peter: I don't know how you found my blog, but I've certainly enjoyed reading yours. Thanks for helping me waste my time every morning!

Bava: You were the first person to link me, and I've enjoyed reading your blog ever since.

Eric: I found you on Blogspot through our mutual love of Kent, and we've been corresponding ever since. Not bad, eh?

Rasmus: You've watched me go from Canada to Sweden, back to Canada, to France, back to Canada, and now to Romania. I know I can always count on you to be my conscience, and for that I am grateful.

Roy: I can't begin to thank you for your friendship this past year. You were always there to take my mind off HTML, CSS, psycho Romanian guys and post offices.

Guillaume: You've always helped me see things in a new light. I want to frame your emails.

DCIP: I don't know a thing about you, but thanks for reading and sharing my links with the "young Romanians in Germany".

Irresponsible

My big project here at the Institute was to teach a tool on how to use ICT to encourage democratic citizenship.

Interesting idea.

We are using schools in Romania and schools in Florida.

I adore my classes. The teacher is awesome, and he tries so so hard with this project.

The Florida classes have been less than enthusiastic. I emailed to see how they were doing and never got a response. I emailed again. And again. And again. Nothing. My boss emailed them. And emailed them. And emailed them. Nothing.

My Romanian teacher needs an answer. Romanian schools have two weeks vacation starting Monday. Last Friday, I promised to find him a new partner.

I emailed our Floriday contact who called me long distance. I explained the problem and he said that the Florida class must have lost interest.

Did they not consider it important enough to tell *me* this? Or my boss? Are they ignoring our emails or do they not check them?

The Florida coordinator said he would try to get another class. It's been a week and I haven't heard from him. I emailed him on Tuesday to remind him of the deadline and he wrote back that he hoped he would have an answer soon.

The problem with North American classes is that they are too structured. Teachers already have their lesson plans this late in the year. In that sense, Romanian schools are better. While kids are kids everywhere, the teachers I have dealt with did not teach out of a textbook. They encouraged discussion, thinking out of the box and alternate forms of problem solving.

However, I am also dealing with "affluent" schools for gifted children.

The Romanian students here have classes in civics and philosophy. The coolest thing I had at their age was art and gym. Most of the teachers have here masters degrees. Several of my teachers in high school had masters but in junior high? I don't think any of them did.

One thing I did notice was the lack of dress codes. I helped out at a Project Citizen showcase and I was shocked at how the girls were dressed. Crop tops, see-through shirts, ultra-tight jeans. In junior high! Some of the schools have uniforms but the students wear whatever they want underneath.

I explained to one of the teachers that our schools at home had dress codes. At my high school, skirts could be no more than three inches above the knee, our shirts had to reach our waistbands, girls could not wear spaghetti-strap tank tops and no one could wear clothing with beer or cigarette logos on them.

She told me that at her school, teachers don't have the right to dictate how students dress. She had colleagues suggest to parents that their child dress more appropriately for school, and had the parents fly into a rage. "Don't you tell me how to parent *my* child. You have no right to suggest how my child should dress!"

Far cry from high school, when I remember guys walking around school with duct tape on their shirts to cover up the offended logos and slogans. It was supposed to encourage an environment for learning.

I discussed this with a colleague, who said that students dress this way to express their individuality. I countered that you can be an individual without looking like you're ready to go to a disco. (Actually, I worded it along the lines of "they don't have to make themselves look like prosti-tots.") Of course, then we got into a discussion about the horribly short Romanian skirts (she saw nothing wrong with three inch long skirts) but I'll save that for another post.

Turkey part #4

Leaving Tuesday morning from Timisoara at 6:00 am exactly.

Arriving Wednesday morning at 8:25 am.

This is good. I'm basically tracing the ancient Orient Express route, which in itself is cool. I'm excited about seeing eastern Bulgaria. I love trains.

Apparently, there is no visa/passport control on the train. This means that at 2:00 am, the train stops at the border and we're hearded outside to buy visas and get our passports stamped.

However, Rob and I will meet up at the hotel in the early morning and we'll have the entire day in Istanbul, and not just the evening.

If anyone wants souvenirs/postcards etc, send me your information. I added my email address (yes, it works) on the profile page.

Faxing

I just got my coworker to help me fax a document to Canada.

I hate fax machines. The fax machine at my first job was my nemesis (possibly because you had to feed the pages in manually as it would not accept large "chunks"). Another job involved me faxing newspaper articles to various media monitoring agencies.

So you can imagine how much I hate faxes.

I do not understand this fax machine. I have trained several printers and we share a mutual respect. When I press "print document now", I expect that document to come out into my greedy little hands. And in return, it expects me to change the toner, retrieve errant pages and generally treat it with love and respect as befitting a half-tonne piece of machinery.

Yes, call me the "printer whisperer".

So yeah, I hate fax machines. And I don't understand how this one works, if it senses my discomfort, or this is merely an excercise in cross-cultural/cross-species communication.

As far as I know, to send a fax, the person has to pick up the phone receiver and repeatedly dial 310. 310. 310. 310. 310. I overheard the voice on the other end. It's a voice I'm all too familiar with, after trying to place call upon call without realising that I needed a 256 prefix. Also, after buying a shoddy phone card. Let's just call it the Romanian equivalent of "Your call cannot be completed as dialed. Please check the number and try again. This is a recording" 2CY".

So Vali is trying over and over again to do...what? I don't know. Finally, we get a dial tone or something. And the machine beeps. And beeps again. He nods at me.

Victory is ours (or more precisely, the Canadian Medicare system, as my health insurance is now officially extended).

Turkey part #3

I'm off to Turkey again.

On Tuesday (or Monday, long story), I'm high-tailing it to Sofia.

Why the long story? Well, inter-country communication isn't exactly a high-point on Balkan agendas. Namely, inter-country transportation. I've complained about it way back when I arrived in September. It's virtually impossible to book inter-country travel here in the Balkans.

Bulgarian Rob tells me that they're doing contruction on the Belgrade-Sofia line. This is bad news. If I take that train, it's five hours to Belgrade (for 175 km!), I spend the whole day in the city and then it's a night train to Sofia. I arrive in the early morning, rested and refreshed. Then I'll meet up with Rob and we'll get a bus to Istanbul, arrive in the evening, get something to eat and then sleep.

However, Rob tells me that the Belgrade members of his organisation have informed him of construction on the train line and that service is disrupted.

In that case, I can either take a bus to Sofia or a 24- hour train from Arad to Sofia. No idea why there are direct trains from Arad and not Timisoara, as we're almost twice as big as they are (incidentally, the train originates in Budapest and ends up in Thessaloniki).

And I just had an idea...taking a 26.5 hour train from Timisoara to Istanbul, switching in Bucharest. I can meet Rob there at night.

Hmm...definitely a possibility. Good thing I bought a life-time supply of Gravol! And I'm glad I'm getting more use out of my visa. That sucker was expensive!

I decided against trying for Georgia and instead I'm concentrating on the West coast. I emailed one of the places I'm staying for travel advice and they said that as a single female, I should not attempt going alone. Many of these Eastern coastal cities are flooded with Russian prostitutes (Natashas) and I could easily be mistaken for one.

Rob is leaving on the 27th and I'm taking a night bus to Izmir. Then, I will catch another bus to Selcuk and have some time soaking up the history by Epheseus. The guest house where I will stay is supposed to be incredible and I'm really excited about seeing it.

Then I will go to Cappadocia for some time amongst the moonscapes. I'm especially looking forward to the medieval churches. I went to Croatia specifically to see a UNESCO basilica and it did not disappoint. Let's hope Turkey will be the same.

Who am I kidding? We all know I'm really going for the kebab!

Romanian economics

I found this interesting article from Newsweek via Dragos' excellent site.

Go read both sites now.

Letting Go - Nitin Sawhney

I've been listening to this song a lot lately, and it seems strangely appropriate.

Now I often talk of my heart
How can I turn to the dark
And the swaying silence
I see, there's nothing I can hold on to
You can't breathe if I hold you tight
You can't breathe if I hold you tight

Don't be afraid of letting go
Don't be afraid of letting go

Not of anything out of anyone
All alone here with my demons
Am I ready to move on
To a person or place
Alone away from here
And I miss you
And I lose you
And I found you
I choose to follow my heart

Don't be afraid of letting go
Don't be afraid of letting go

Not of anything out of anyone
Out of anything out of anyone

Don't be afraid of letting go

Gypsy house

Update on the gypsy house:

A good source (not associated with the Institute) tells me that:

a) Gyspy houses are a measure of status. Ergo, the bigger the the house, the more status the family has
b) These houses are supposedly "copies" of the houses the Roma had in India. Good memories, huh?
c) It is not unheard of for them to bring a tent inside and live in the tent. Yes, these houses are furnished.
d) They also bring their horses inside
e) They were built on land that wasn't theirs, so the city hall cleared away some of the houses
f) They're only lived in for a short period of the year (usually winter) when the Roma are back from the rest of Europe
g) When asked how they pay for the electricity when they're not there, my source responded "How do you pay for something when you have it illegally?"

Maggi

Maggi (a subsidiary of Nestle) is having an avertising campaign. Basically, if the Maggi car (probably something like the Oscar Mayer Wienermobile) sees your window with the Maggi logo in it (conveniently available on every package of Maggi foods), you win 1000 euros instantly.

I joked to my friend Cipri that Maggi is the real winner here. Timisoara's windows are covered with the Maggi logo. Maggi gets free advertising from 60% of the city's inhabitants and someone gets 1000 euros. Probably a lot cheaper than a billboard. Not a bad trade-off from their perspective. Well...I guess more than one person will get 1000 euros, but seeing the red and yellow label on every window is quite garish.

The commercial pisses me off too. I only saw it once, but that was enough. A mother helps her son put the logo on the window and then magically below, the Maggi man appears in the driveway.

Maybe I'm just jealous because I'm leaving before I can win 1000 euros.

One man's trash...

I've started packing up all my stuff. Since my boss' wife has taken over the living room and my laundry room for her office, I have no place to put my suitcase. It is now in my hallway and I trip over it every morning.

I'm deciding what I want to bring home and what I should give away or throw out. I realise that I brought way too much stuff (and I only brought one suitcase for clothing and another small bag for cosmetics and creams/etc). Stuff I only wore once or twice is definitely in the "give away" pile.

Even stuff that is being thrown out will probably receive a good home. Almost every morning, I see Roma looting through my garbage. This never really made me too uncomfortable as all I threw out were kitchen scraps.

However, I threw out two pairs of pants yesterday (both were ripped). I saw a man open the bag and take out the pants, holding them up against himself and then putting them back in the garbage can when he realised they weren't in good condition. As I walked out the door on my way to work, they were still there, hanging out of the can, unwanted.

I never really thought about people going through my stuff before. I know it happens but I don't like to think about it. I know what else was in that bag and it ain't pretty. I think it was something along the lines of fish scraps, stuff I swept up from my bathroom floor and empty lapte batut containers.

Who are these people?

Seems like 90% of the people who are coming to this blog are using Websearch and looking up "fat guy singing dragostea din tei".

Seriously, who are these people? What is Websearch? Obviously, it's a portal, but why is everyone looking up the exact same thing?

There are still the crop of freaks looking up variations upon testicles. My discription states that this is *not* a site about testicles, yet they still come in droves. Not to mention all those who think that this is the www.nike.ro headquarters.

And I'm confused. Why do people google karro.blogspot.com? Why don't they just type it into the address bar?

And who are the people from Harvard and UBC who are always coming. Leave a comment some time!

A girl and her camera

It was such a beautiful day yesterday that I took my camera and filled up 16 mb of Timisoara goodness.

I wanted to show "average" Timisoara and not just the downtown core (although I don't know if I succeeded). We all know how many pictures I've taken of the cathedral and Piata Unirii but sometimes it's nice to show the non-touristic parts of the city too.

There's a street that runs perpendicular to my street. One side is all apartment blocks and the other side are "mansions". None of the houses have Dacias. Some are empty inside. I don't know who lives here, but they're all gated. Gated houses aren't unusual in Timisoara (Christi's is gated too) but this just makes the houses look forbidding.

At least the cars all have Timisoara license plates.

I saw a gypsy cart going down the street, so I finally got a picture of it.

Behind the afformentioned mansions is a true mansion. Whenever I ask Romanians about it, they always sneer and say it's a gypsy mansion.

Apparently, the gypsies go to beg in France, Germany, etc and return with the money and build these incredibly huge ostentatious mansions. I saw some on the way into town when I arrived in Timisoara last August. No matter how big you think the house in the pictures is, I can guarantee you it's bigger.

The yard is groomed and reminds me of a house you'd see on a golf course. However, instead of a broken Oldsmobile on cinderblocks in the front yard, they have a broken gypsy cart.

I asked a friend if anyone lives there but no one knows. If a family is there, certainly it's an extended family and includes all the branches of the family.

It's gated too.

I ran out of memory on my card, so one last picture of the cathedral

Piata Opera

Architecture on Piata Victoriei

Cathedral

The ubiquitous Romanian wolf/Rolumus/Remus statue

Piata Victoriei

Advertising

Piata Opera

Opera

Huniades "castle" (completely redone by those damn Hapsburgs and lost all of its "castle-ness")

Firestage

Synagogue

Synagogue

Synagogue

Grafitti

Tram

My tram stop

Posters

Street

Product packaging I haven't seen in over ten years.

I thought that was a Dacia, but on closer inspection it was a Peugeolt

Headquarters of the PNL/DA party

Piata Unirii

Piata Unirii

Piata Unirii

Piata Unirii

Piata Unirii

Piata Unirii

Piata Unirii

Piata Unirii

Piata Unirii

Piata Unirii

Piata Unirii

Piata Unirii

Piata Unirii

Piata Unirii

Fountain

Fountain

This fountain is on the site of an ancient Roman fountain. The water supposedly has magical properties. It tastes horrible, and I prefer the fountain on Alba Iulia much more.

Piata Unirii

Sinatra Club (decorated to look like a 1940s speakeasy)

I always read this sign as "erotica" instead of "birotica".

Colt means "corner" in Romanian and this cafe is indeed on the corner. Great place, too.

Serbian-style building beside the church

Serbian church

Serbian church

Serbian church

Serbian church

Serbian church

Serbian church